This past Sunday was an excellent kick-off into a new week-- Maggie and Margaret came into town on their way back to the beast coast from the best coast. Most of the time we just sort of hung out, did the local queer bar circuit and some minimal gallavanting. Yesterday Maggie and I went to the Sutro Baths, but unfortunately didn't see any ghosts. We did, however, see a very very dead bird and inspirationally climbed a cliff wall because we were too lazy to walk back and take the stairs to the road. We had an embarrasingly 'Wesleyan' dinner party with Sally, Kevi and Missy, and then scaled Bernal Hill in the mist. Maggie told me (this morning, over apple fritters) that I sound like a seasoned San Franciscan, which was nice to hear because it's been just two months going on twenty-two more....
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